I had been in contact with hospices in new York City and albany, but the first solid contact I had was with a hospice was in Corning. That meant I was on my own for almost 300 miles. This wasn't a bad thing, though, in that it gave me the chance to see if my body was still up to walking distances of up to 30 miles a day, in a variety of weather conditions. It would take me two weeks to reach the Southern Tier Hospice in Corning.
On Friday, 28 August, with heavy rain falling, I decided to stop for the night at a motel and diner near the small town of Scotrun. Food, warmth, and the chance to dry out overnight, were all in store.
As I left Scotrun, the next morning, the rain was just a drizzle, more like a low cloud, but blanketed the way ahead. All things considered, though, the rain was probably a blessing in disguise, as it meant lower temperatures and less problems from the sun and heat. It just meant that I had to put up with being wet. I wore my goretex waterproof jacket, but still had shorts and running shoes on. Walking without any break, I passed through Swiftwater and climbed steadily higher on Route 611 to Mount Pocono. In the small town the low cloud surrounded me with 100% humidity.
The cloud beyond Mount Pocono began to clear, leaving the heavily wooded area shrouded in mist. There were many dead, black and twisted trees in a swamp-like land and the place looked eerie. A beautiful monarch butterfly, with black veined and white spotted orange wings, sat, feeding on some yellow flowers. The sight of the butterly helped cheer the gloomy swamp up.
A back road led to Gouldsboro, and followed a fence, off to my right, that marked the boundary of an army base around the area of Tobyhanna. Route 435 North would then take me on towards Daleville.
As the skies darkened and heavy rain began once more, I came to the juntion with I-380 and Route 435 North. A smile broke my face, as I saw a Burger King and gas station at the junction. Jogging along, with my backpack swaying away, I made for the Burger King. It was good. As I got inside, a torrential downpour flooded the forecourt of the gas station in several inches of water. My timing was perfect. I quickly ordered food and sat down.
Seated at the table next to me was an old man, in his seventies or eighties. I turned to him.
'Excuse me, can you tell me how I get to Daleville from here?' I knew the way to Daleville, but really wanted to check to see if there was anywhere I could stay in Daleville.
'What you wanna go there for? There's nothing there.'
'I'm walking across the country for hospices. I wanted to stop at Daleville.'
The man looked at me as if I was crazy. 'Where are you gunna stay? There's no motels or nothing there.'
'I'm not too sure then. I guess I'll figure something out.' The man nodded his head, scowled and returned to eating his food.
So it was, that without any idea of where I would stay the night, I headed along 435 North in the dark towards Daleville. The rainstorm had passed, but had left water puddled on the asphalt. The edge of the road was bad, with loose bits of asphalt, potholes and pools of water. Cars and trucks rushed on by, spraying me with more water. When there were no cars, though, the night had a peaceful feel to it.
Ahead of me, pointing the way to Daleville, was the constellation of the Big Dipper. Up in the deep black sky I could see Orion, but not standing like a proud hunter with a bow; this Orion was lying on his back, looking like a hunter who had drunk one too many beers. That thought made me smile.
A few small houses were dotted around amongst the black woodlands to either side of the road. At one point there was a 'gentlemen's club' called 'The Grand View'. I contemplated going on into the club, but wondered if my backpack, wet raincoat and shorts would fit in with the clientele there. It was probably best to keep moving.
